A Seven Percent Solution
by FizzingWhizzbee204
Summary: When John is on the warpath he throws out Sherlock's syringe. Let's just say it was a bad idea and leave it at that...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is the first part of a short fic which will be spread over several chapters. If I take too long to upload feel free to yell at me in the reviews or PM me, also feel free to point out errors.**

 **I don't even care if it's as small a thing as using 'too' instead of 'to', please tell me!**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

John's footsteps sounded on the stairs and echoed through the house like thunder, each stomp! stomp! stomp! making the steps shake and creak. He reached the top of the stairs and opened the door to 221b. There was, apparently, a skill to opening a door angrily, and it was also apparent that John had that skill. The fury he injected into the simple turning of a handle is, I'm sure, unrivalled to this day.

After slamming the door shut again, John flopped into his armchair. He looked stiff and stressed, his fists clenching and unclenching on the armrests as he shot little darting glared around the room, his eyes narrowed and his lips in a thin line. Yes, John was on the warpath.

Finally, John's eyes locked onto something on the coffee table. It shouldn't have been possible, but his eyes seemed to narrow more and his lips became so thin that his mouth literally looked like a gash in his face.

John sat, glaring at the syringe for a couple of seconds until, suddenly, in a burst of energy akin to a small explosion, John leapt out of the armchair and dived towards the coffee table, grasping the syringe in his hand.

The syringe was destined to arrive, in pieces, at a landfill site not long after this explosion of anger on the part of John.

 **A/N There you go, I will update a.s.a.p but until then, R &R: it means a lot. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

"JOHN! WHERE IS IT?"

"Where is what?!"

"MY SYRINGE! WHAT ELSE COULD I MEAN?!"

"Oh... I threw it out!"

John heard footsteps clatter on the wooden floor and a moment later Sherlock's face appeared around the doorframe, looking distinctly paler than usual.

"You... you what?" Shock, anger and fear chased each other across his usually mask-like face.

"Threw out your syringe." John shot Sherlock a look over his shoulder, in a casual manner, as if to gauge his reaction. However Sherlock's mask was back up, with only a steely glint in his eye to show the turmoil of emotions flitting around his brain. Without another word, he turned, and left the room.

John honestly couldn't think of an explanation for Sherlock's behaviour.

 **A/N I've decided I'm going to do an update a day to try and compensate for the length (or lack thereof) of the chapters. So I'll be back tomorrow, until then R &R and thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N The sentences in italics are John's thoughts. Just thought I'd make that clear.**

 _Perhaps he's doing an experiment?_ John mused

 _or sulking... He's probably sulking..._

John rolled his eyes. Sherlock had shut himself in his room for a solid three days now with nothing but, it seemed, an experiment to do with the effects of freezing, refrigerating... basically different methods of storing blood... It must be for a case.

THUMP!

The sudden noise caused John to look around abruptly, and then regret it when his neck clicked loudly.

"Ah! Shhh... Shi- ah!"

Another thump was heard from Sherlock's room and John leapt up as he heard more crashing and clattering.

 _What the hell is he up to?_ He wondered, shaking his head in confusion, a bewildered expression on his face.

 _Well, nothing else for it._ John sighed and started to head down the corridor.

 **A/N Okay, so in the next chapter... stuff happens. It basically get a bit more exciting so look forward to that! For now, R &R and Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I'd like to thank everyone who has either followed, favourited or written a review for this story, that is, Arty Diane, xxxwallflowerxxx, cherryblossomsantuary and olivesandowls2001. Thank you! The support means a lot.**

The racket only got louder as he advanced to Sherlock's room until it literally sounded as if there was a Dr Filibuster's Firework crashing around inside. John went to open the door but before he could open it more than a crack it was slammed shut again by the figure on the other side.

"SHERLOCK!?" John hollered, banging on the door.

"Go away John!" Was the yell from the other side.

John had a sharp intake of breath, Sherlock's already baritone voice seemed to have dropped another octave and the low pitch seemed to resonate through John.

"What's going on?!" John called, his voice slightly higher than usual.

"N- n- nothing!" Was the reply.

At this, alarm bells went off in John's head. Sherlock never stuttered! John redoubled his efforts on the door, slamming his weight against it.

 _What the hell is going on in there! Bloody bastard! He'll have trashed the room before I get in there! Is he doing something dangerous? Could he seriously hurt himself?_

It was this last thought that sent John crashing through doorway and, such was the momentum, onto Sherlock's bed. The door was now swinging back and forth, as if enjoying the freedom of being able to move again. It was the only thing in the room that was moving. Sherlock stood, frozen, looking like a deer in the headlights facing John who, likewise was frozen in his position on the bed.

The reason for their mutual shock was Sherlock's appearance... especially... his eyes.

His eyes were blood red.

It was John who spoke first:

"Sherlock, what the hell are you playing at! You lock yourself in your room for three days! Without food or water as far as I know! Then I hear you crashing around like a rampaging bull! And... and... Sherlock, why are your eyes red? Sherlock, why the hell are your eyes red?! What is in your mouth! No, forget that, what are you eating?! What is that around your mouth?! Oh, God! Sherlock! What is that?!"

But Sherlock didn't seem to be listening as John gaped at his bright red eyes and the strange red marks around his mouth, he wasn't even looking at John's face, but at his neck.

Sherlock's gaze was no longer shocked and scared, but predator-like and hungry. He opened his mouth and John gasped once more as he spotted

 _two_ _glistening fangs..._

 **A/N Sherlock's a vampire! Perhaps you saw it coming? I don't know, I'm not a mind reader. Tomorrow's chapter will be John's reaction to the revelation... meanwhile, R &R and, once again, thank you for reading this far.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Sorry this is late, school... *sigh* Anyway, enjoy!**

John's mouth opened and closed for a couple of seconds, making him look like a fish, before he leapt up and exploded.

"YOU'RE A BLOODY VAMPIRE! What the hell! No... you're not... you can't be because VAMPIRES DON-"

"We do exist."

"DON'T BLOODY EXIST! So what is this this supposed to be then?! Is it for a case?! Dress up as a vampire and monitor your flatmate's reaction? Well you can put this in your mind palace! YOUR FLATMATE IS BLOODY PISSED OFF AND DOES NOT BELIEVE THIS VAMPIRE NONSENSE FOR A MOMENT!"

John stood, panting, after his brief, but not insignificant, outburst. However, Sherlock was still staring at John's neck and it was making John very uncomfortable.

"Sherlock..."

"We do exist John" Sherlock's voice was low and dangerous, and it sent a little shiver up John's spine. "Vampires exist and you are currently facing one, so I suggest you start to accept that fact."

All the time he was speaking, Sherlock had been creeping towards John, with slow yet purposeful strides, his eyes still fixed on John's neck.

"Yea, very funny Sherlock, I'm still annoyed you know and this isn't helping, so drop the act will you."

The confident tone in which John spoke masked the fear which he felt within. But he wasn't shaking or trembling. Of course he wasn't. John's body was perfectly steady and calm, as it always was in dangerous situations.

It all happened in an instant. Suddenly, Sherlock was standing right in front of John and his teeth were getting closer to that lovely vein on John's neck. Closer... closer...

"Sherlock!"

All pretence of indifference was gone now and John sounded terrified as the full reality of his situation dawned upon him.

"Sherlock!"

There was no reaction from the man bending over John, his whole focus on the blood coursing through John's veins. Closer... closer...

 _I guess that's why he's so pale_ thought John _And the whole thing with the suit too... Isn't that quite vampiresque?_ Closer... clos-

Sherlock suddenly leapt back, horror upon his face, and before John could do or say anything... He was gone, leaving behind a very scared and confused flatmate.

 **A/N So, that's happened! I'm not sure how Johnlock-ish to make this... I guess I'll just wait and see how this pans out. R &R, thank you for reading this far! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I know this is later than usual but, hey, I need my weekend lie-in! Special thanks to Senshi Sun aka Magic Ink for reviewing, as well as all you people who have been reading this.**

 _Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!_ Sherlock thought as he stood in the lab, trying to focus on his chemical analysis. He wasn't sure if he was angry at himself, for letting his bloodlust get the better of him, or John, for stealing his syringe in the first place...

The mixture Sherlock had filled it with, suppressed his vampire features and made him almost human... simulating a pulse, changing his eyes and teeth to look more normal, stopping his cravings for blood... but now? Once again he had stupid fangs and stupid red eyes and no stupid pulse and this stupid bloodlust. Sherlock could have screamed at the amount of stupid in his life!

 _Why did John have to throw my syringe away?!_ Sherlock thought in frustration. _He probably thinks it's for injecting cocain, that's what I told him... I suppose he thinks he's taking care of me. Idiot._

Nevertheless Sherlock felt a warm glow in his chest at the thought that someone was looking out for him.

 **A/N Finally! We know know the relevance of the syringe! Hopefully that makes up for the fact it's so short... Let me know what you think. R &R and Thank you for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N I know, I'm late again! Don't kill me! The weekends just seem to make me really lazy. But hey, better late than never. Enjoy.**

When Sherlock returned from the lab he literally crept up the stairs for fear of alerting John to his presence and having to endure a conversation where they 'talk about their feelings'. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he slowly opened the door and slipped into 221b...

But it was all in vain. John was sitting in his armchair facing the door, and staring with an unreadable expression at Sherlock, before getting straight to the point.

"So are you a Vampire? I need the truth, whatever that may be."

Sherlock gulped, "And what if I was a Vampire?"

A small smile graced John's features before disappearing, "I promise I won't shout at you again."

A relieved sigh escape Sherlock's lips before being stopped when he saw John smirking at him. Shelock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I am a Vampire."

John's eyes widened and he sat back in his armchair with a whistle.

"Why has it never shown before?"

"The syringe," Sherlock sighed.

"What about it?"

"It was specifically designed for administrating suppressants which make me act and appear more human. I designed it myself so it was unique. Until I make another one, which will take a while, I am subject to these incredibly irritating waves of sudden bloodlust. These cravings are why I designed the syringe in the first place.

"And you designed the suppressants too?"

"No, they were designed by a friend."

There was a short pause, and John considered asking who this friend was, but thought better of it. Instead he said,

"I'm sorry I threw it out."

Sherlock shrugged, "As I said, I can make another one, and I have spares of the suppressant so those are not problem."

"How will you deal with the bloodlust?"

"I'm sure I'll find a way."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Sherlock swept silently out of the room and John sank back into his armchair, lost in thought.

 **A/N Do you think I should make this Johnlock or not? I'm really not sure so some suggestions would be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading and please R &R.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N I'm so sorry I haven't updated for a few days! Life got in the way.**

Knock, knock!

The door to Sherlock's room opened to reveal the figure of John standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

"Hello John," was all Sherlock said before he collapsed back onto his bed with his hands clasped beneath his chin, his eyes closed in a relaxed manner, but his body tense and alert.

"Okay..." John coughed awkwardly before just diving straight in.

"How did you get blood before, you know, the suppressants?"

Sherlock sighed and sat up, his hands falling to his sides as he studied John. "The same friend who I spoke of before acquired some in the past."

"But you've bitten people before?"

A short pause.

"Yes."

John breathed out slowly. "And it alway causes... It's always fatal?"

"No, if I control my natural instinct to keep drinking, but I have always been good at making sure my brain masters my body and not the other way round."

"Are there many Vampires in the world?"

"It's a very ancient species which has all but died out due to vampire hunters." Sherlock's face darkened a little. "We, or whatever is left of us, are scattered throughout the world. We don't keep contact or have 'meetings' or 'human sacrifices' or whatever the Vampire stereotypes are." Sherlock snorted.

"And who was this friend?"

"... Molly"

John's eyes widened in surprise. "Is she a Vampire?"

"No, no!" Sherlock cried impatiently, "just a friend, I don't know any other Vampires."

John looked down for a second before asking quietly, "How is the syringe coming along?"

Sherlock waved his hand vaguely, "It's taking a while, but it will be done, soon."

"How soon?"

"Oh I don't know! A couple of months?"

"Will you be okay for that long?"

"We'll see."

John felt that was the end of the conversation but as he walked away ha had a thought and turned around.

"Technically speaking, could you feed off my blood?"

Sherlock visibly stiffened, "Technically..."

It was only when John had left, shutting the door behind him and plopping into his armchair, that he wondered at Sherlock's behaviour, why had he even bothered to answer all those questions? He didn't usually, unless they were about a case. Why open up now?

 _He's probably kept everything a secret for too long_ John mused. _Has he even told Mycroft? Or does he already know?_

 **A/N So yea... Not the best or most exciting chapter but some things that weren't straightened out in their last conversation needed to be made clear. Hopefully things will pick up in the next chapter.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! I was so busy with school and during the holidays I wanted to just relax. I did a longish chapter to make up for it :)**

Sherlock had locked himself in his room for three days since his last conversation with John and his situation had only got worse. It was infuriating to know that, beyond his door, there was a wholesome, fresh supply of blood. And yet, Sherlock would never forgive himself if any harm came to John. The risk of him losing control and killing John was too great; he would just have to wait his bloodlust out and try to survive on this fake, disgusting, horrible... Yuck!

No, he was losing his patience! Sherlock had been trapped inside his room for almost a week! Pacing up and down, drinking that vile blood substitute, trying to ignore John as he went about his daily routintoe, oblivious to Sherlock's inward battle. Being unable to solve cases was the worst thing. He didn't know how infuriating it could be, hearing the phone ring, unanswered, and have to listen to Lestrade's voice mail about the case he was missing! AHHHHHH! Sherlock was sick of it, he felt as if he was going mad!

Sherlock was decided, he'd had enough! He strode towards the door and wrenched it open to see... John?

John's arm was raised, as if to knock on the door. He looked extremely uncomfortable. His eyes were darting around Sherlock's room as he stood in the doorway, looking anywhere but at Sherlock, who was feeling equally ill at ease. It was John who broke the silence.

"So how are you holding up?"

Sherlock sighed, this had been the theme of every conversation they'd had: Are you okay? How are you coping? Is your bloodlust overwhelming you? Their conversations were going round in circles, as if John was trying to find as many different ways to say Are you alright? as possible.

However, this was different. He had never looked so... nervous, unsure of himself, he was fiddling with his shirt-sleeve button an- Sherlock stopped himself, he had a feeling John wouldn't like being deduced him at this moment in time. He returned his attention to the man in front of him.

"Relatively well."

John's mouth twitched upwards at this.

"Sherlock, I'm not completely oblivious. You've been pacing around your room for three days straight now and I'm sure if you had a gun, the wall would have a hole shot right through it."

"Luckily, I predicted that outcome and proceeded to remove the gun from my room. I believe it is currently in the living room."

John fixed Sherlock with a glare.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

"Yes John, I'm a supposed fantasy being with a need to suck blood and I'm currently stuck in a flat with a very nice source of that particular liquid standing about three feet away. I suggest you leave before I take advantage of that fact."

John started fiddling with his shirt-sleeve again.

"You could... if you wanted to, I mean, I wouldn't mind, I mean... oh never mind."

John ceased babbling with a resigned gesture and stood there, oscillating slightly, as if he wasn't sure whether to go or stay.

Sherlock's eyes, which had widened at John's offer, were now sending a steady, but piercing look, at him. The tension could be cut with a knife.

"Are you sure that's wise? I might hurt, even kill you John." Sherlock looked away for a moment, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, you've always prided yourself on controlling your body and it's needs, not submitting to them." John was speaking rapidly now, gaining confidence as he went on. "You said that your mind controls your body, not the other way around. If you do this, you eliminate the risk of the bloodlust overwhelming you, hurting other people."

"John... I might kill you!"

"Sherlock, I was in the army, and I am in more danger working with you than I ever would be in the regular police force. I am at risk every day and you always protect me, this will be no different."

John grinned, "Besides, I got you in this mess, I'm bloody well going to get you out."

 **A/N Yay! I might not update daily but I will carry on and update as often as I can. R &R and thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Sorry it's been so long since my last update, I wanted to get this chapter right.**

John was looking defiantly at Sherlock with a smile plastered on his face like a mask but inside he was not as resolved as he appeared. He was scared, and the warm buzz of adrenaline, which usually distracted him from his fright, was absent. He felt cold and dead inside, but for the knot of fear twisting and writhing in his stomach.

Sherlock was, as always, masking his emotions but you could still see the fear and unease in his eyes, his unwillingness to go through with John's suggestion.

John could see Sherlock's indecision and he knew he could just walk away now and nothing would change, he would be okay, Sherlock could get through this, finish the syringe, regain normal eyes and teeth and a pulse, it would all be fine...

No. Once Captain John H. Watson made a decision, he stuck to it, and he had been considering this particular decision for days, he was sure it would be fine. But Sherlock was almost certainly not going to take up his offer, John could tell. Dare he... provoke him? It would be near suicide! But, there was a little part of John's brain which was certain that Sherlock would never hurt him.

For the sake of his friend, John focused on this part of his brain as he stepped through the door - into Sherlock's room.

The shock and alarm flashed across Sherlock's face, his eyes widening as he stepped back.

 _What is John doing? What is John doing? What is John doing? What is John doing? No!_

Sherlock's attempts, however, to force John back into the corridor, were futile.

John took a deep breath as he steeled himself for the next step. He slowly, but forcefully, reached out, grasped Sherlock's hand and brought it up to his own chest... just above his heart. There was little resistance on Sherlock's part, he didn't seem to understand what John was doing until his hand was on John's chest.

He could feel it, just beneath his fingers, John's heart, beating in a regular rhythm, pumping warm, rich, dark blood through John's veins, coursing up his neck and down his legs and down his arms and around his hands and- no! No! This was not going to happen! He tried to pull away but John was holding his wrist with a grip of iron. Sherlock moaned, partly because he couldn't escape and it was incredibly frustrating, but also because there was blood, real blood, mere inches away. And he had sworn to himself that he would never drink that blood.

John smiled to himself. He could see a feral glint in Sherlock's eye and he was sure he would give in. But no, Sherlock remained with his mouth firmly closed and his eyes firmly averted. John mentally sighed, fine, be like that. He gripped Sherlock's hand even tighter, so he could not possibly remove it and, raising his other hand, placed Sherlock's hand on the pulse point on his wrist.

Sherlock immediately stiffened as his hand was placed on John's wrist. He could really feel his heart beat now, without the layers of jumper in the way. And it was driving him crazy.

Still he abstained.

Finally John, seeing that nothing else would shake Sherlock, played his final card.

He tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand.

John was moving his hand again, Sherlock inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, he could no longer feel John's blood flowing temptingly under his finger tips... Oh God! His fingers touched John's neck and he knew he was doomed. He could feel John's blood almost as if he was really touching it, and not just pressing the pulse point on John's neck. He felt his self-control shatter like a sheet of glass, the piece crashing through his body and making him spring into action.

John smiled as the feral spark dancing in Sherlock's eyes burst into flame, it worked, but what would be the outcome?


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N You lucky people, you get a double update! I didn't think it was fair to leave it where the last chapter ended so, yea. That was one of the reasons I haven't update for a while, I was working on two chapters instead of one. Anyway, enjoy!**

Everything Sherlock had endured over the last week or so, all the emotions, the constant, barely controlled, need for blood rose up within him and suddenly he was experiencing the strongest bloodlust in his life.

John forced himself to remain calm, even though Sherlock's fangs seemed twice as long, his eyes twice as red and his expression twice as feral. He no longer felt as if he was standing in front of Sherlock, he felt as if he was standing in front of an animal.

CRASH!

Sherlock had let his animalistic instincts take over and had slammed John against the wall. John was trapped and as Sherlock's grip on his shoulders tightened, he was sure that, even with his military training, he would be unable to escape.

 _He seems to posses superhuman strength, part of being a vampire? But Sherlock was not able to escape my grip earlier... it's probably another effect of the bloodlust._ It suddenly dawned on John how he was completely at the mercy of the creature standing in front of him, being, as he was, unable to escape.

 _Well... shit._ He thought.

John was brought back to the present by a hand roughly gripping his wrist and dragging it up to Sherlock's mouth level. Then Sherlock, comparatively gently, brought John's hand towards his mouth, keeping eye contact the whole time.

Sherlock was determined to try and stop if John showed any signs of dissent, he was just scared he wouldn't be able to. Sherlock was terrified.

John swallowed his fear and nodded at Sherlock.

Sherlock could almost hear John's voice saying continue. That was all it took. Sherlock bit into John's wrist.

John had to grit his teeth to stop himself crying out. It was painful, very painful. Sherlock had just bitten into his wrist, of course it was painful. After a moment however, the pain died away and a kind of peace washed over him. It was like sinking into a bath at the end of a long day.

This euphoric feeling could have lasted for five seconds or lasted five minutes but John eventually felt it slipping away little by little...

The moment Sherlock bit into John's wrist, he started drinking with a gusto that can only be understood by people who have experienced true hunger. His mind was empty of all logical thought and the only thing running through his head was _feed feed feed feed feed kill-_

 _Wait! Whoa stop! No! Not kill, he could not kill John! He MUST stop drinking or he WOULD kill John!_

And with the greatest amount of self control Sherlock had ever had to exercise, he forced himself to pull his teeth out of John's blood vessel.

John gasped as he emerged from his trance and then immediately gasped a second time as he suddenly felt the pain from his wrist hit him with full force once again. Yet, almost immediately, the pain was gone. He looked down to see Sherlock licking the wound.

"Vampire saliva," he explained "heals bite wounds."

John nodded, it made sense. There was a pause.

"How are you?" John asked.

"Good, you?"

"Good."

 **A/N Ta da! I hope you like it. I will be doing an epilogue soon but this is the last official chapter! Thank you everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed! It's been very encouraging. Thanks for reading, R &R :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N This chapter is dedicated to KkGgINoU who reminded me to get off my lazy behind and finish this, Arty Diane who has reviewed and helped me with this story and everyone who has read this story.**

"COME ON JOHN!" Sherlock yelled back over his shoulder as they turned yet another corner in pursuit of the thief,"WE'VE GOT HIM NOW!"

John followed Sherlock into the dim alleyway to see Sherlock calmly striding towards their criminal as he tried to scramble over a damp brick wall. Sherlock easily brought him back to earth with a sharp tug to his leg. The thief fell on the wet concrete ground and, looking around, and finding escape useless, shot them a glare. He seemed too exhausted after his manic sprint to do anything more than that, and slumped against the wall, panting. Sherlock and John sat side by side against the opposite wall to wait for Lestrade to arrive with the official forces.

John grinned, another successful case in the bag! They had spent the whole week catching up on all the cases Sherlock has missed during 'the vampire incident' as it had been dubbed. After the first two cases had been cleared up, John decided to take a week's holiday from work. It was too tiring trying to juggle work and Sherlock's cases. The only way he would be able to do it was if he stopped sleeping altogether.

It was rather thrilling really, that Sherlock was a vampire. Once he had another syringe he was much easier to live with and John was glad he didn't have to deal with Sherlock's bloodlust. Having his flatmate bite his arm once was enough, thank you very much!

Nonetheless... It had created a kind of bond between them. John felt he understood Sherlock better now. 'The vampire incident' had shown John how human and emotional Sherlock really was, well... vampire, not human.

"Ah Lestrade, you're finally here!" Shouted Sherlock, jumping to his feet and bringing John back to the present. But before the aforementioned Lestrade could get a word in, Sherlock was making his deductions.

"The pattern by which I predicted the criminal's next move was very simple but because you neglected to add up the house numbers you had no chance however if you-"

John stopped listening to Sherlock's deductions and just watched him: his quick gestures, his mouth, now void of fangs, moving at a hundred miles per hour to convey the answers to the case. It was strange, really, how quickly everything had gone back to normal, how easily they continued solving cases and living their strange coexistence, despite the revelation of this whole new side of Sherlock's character. I suppose it all comes down to how strange, yet intimate, our friendship is... John mused as Sherlock turned his piercing eyes on him. Without any words they turned towards the road and Sherlock raised his hand to hail a cab.

 **A/N It's finished! I hope you liked it and if you have any suggestions or have noticed any spelling mistakes etc. feel free to PM me. Thank you for bothering to read this and please R &R!**


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